I'll Lead You From The Dark
by itsnotthecolorofdesiremarius
Summary: Poetry class modern university AU. Basically, every fanfic every has Grantaire going after Enjolras (obviously based on the situation in the book) and anyways I decided I wanted to change that x) also Courfeyrac/Jehan.
1. Chapter 1

"This class is so incredibly nonsensical," Enjolras muttered, staring at his watch, waiting for the class to be over. The boy who sat next to him, with long braided hair and a flower print cardigan, was staring intently at the teacher with wide eyes, smiling.

"Come on, Enjo, you don't even know what the hell that means," Courfeyrac laughed, sitting on the other side of Enjolras and texting underneath the table, not paying the least amount of attention to the lesson. The other boy giggled and blushed slightly at what he had said.

"Of course I know what it means, I don't attempt to impress people the way you do," Enjolras replied, still staring at his watch, as though he could speed up time.

"Wow, someone's in a totally dickish mood!" Courfeyrac teased, pushing his phone into his pocket.

"This class isn't so bad," the other boy remarked, softly, while adjusting a flower in his hair and looking at Courfeyrac with those big, blue eyes, "how can you possibly dislike poetry?"

Enjolras softened a little at the boy's soft, sweet voice, "I don't understand why it's required. I'm majoring in political science," he shrugged, still anxious for the class to let out.

"Wow, I can't believe you just argued with Enjo, and _got him to calm down._ I like you, what's your name?" Courfeyrac asked, smiling and holding out his hand behind Enjolras. Jehan shook it, looking down, smiling and blushing.

"I'm Jehan," he answered, sweetly, waiting a moment before looking up at Courfeyrac's eyes.

"I'm Courfeyrac. This is Enjo," he said, turning back to face the front and pulling his phone out.

"I know who you guys are," he giggled; everyone at the school knew who Courfeyrac and Enjolras were: the two super-hot activist seniors that almost everyone respected. Jehan was a little surprised that they were talking to him, but happy nonetheless.

"Then I hope you know that my name is not _Enjo_, its Enjolras. Courf just calls me that because he's an idiot sometimes," he said quietly, as Courfeyrac slapped him on the shoulder, and Jehan giggled, noticing that the teacher was glaring at them for talking.

"We all call him that," Courfeyrac smirked.

"God, I loathe this class," Enjolras complained, putting his head on the desk. A dark haired boy behind them nudged him.

"If you hate this class so much, just leave," the boy said, smiling at Enjolras, who had turned to look at him, "I'm leaving, do you want to come?"

"Do I know you?" Enjolras asked, running a hand through his curls. He knew exactly who he was; a sophomore, who went to fewer classes than anyone at the school, showed up to class hung-over whenever he actually bothered to show up, named Grantaire.

Grantaire lifted an eyebrow and shrugged, "well the look on your face says you do," he said, standing up, "have fun in this _nonsensical_ class," he teased, patting Enjolras on the shoulder as he walked out.

"He totally has a crush on you," Courfeyrac sang, not taking his eyes of his phone. Jehan looked over at Courfeyrac and couldn't help but smile.

"That's absurd, and I don't date," Enjolras said, glaring at Courfeyrac, who just smiled back at him.

All three of them fixed their eyes at the front as the teacher gave out the assignment for the next class: a sincere love poem about someone imperfect. Jehan's eyes widened at the thought of it, ideas already dawning in his brain. Courfeyrac shrugged, figuring he could pull out some crap that could get him a passing grade.

"This is ridiculous," Enjolras sighed, "When are we ever going to need to use this practically in life?" he asked, gathering his papers together and shoving them in his messy backpack.

"Gee, I don't know, but if you ever get tired of abstinence it might come in handy..." Courfeyrac laughed, throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder. Jehan folded up the paper he had written the assignment on delicately and placed it in his pocket.

"How we ever became friends is so lost on me. Stop texting your girlfriends. I have my next class in ten minutes," Enjolras said.

"Shut up, you know you love me, and your overachieving schedule doesn't affect me," Courfeyrac replied; Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding back a smile, "which class do you have next, new kid?" he asked, turning to Jehan.

"I don't have a class, I was going to go down to the cafe next to the park, you know?" he asked softly, trying to gather up the nerves to invite this cute new senior he had just met.

"Ha! Enjolras, have fun in whatever class you're taking! Me and Jehan are gonna go have a party!" he teased, putting his arm around Jehan playfully.

"_Jehan and I_," Enjolras corrected, "and I'm sure I'll enjoy myself much more than you will. I have to go."

"I'm sure you will, Enjo. Hey, isn't your little admirer in that class too?" Courfeyrac teased.

"I do not have an admirer," Enjolras asserted, "stop being ridiculous."

"I'm not the one oblivious that some sophomore obviously has a crush on me!" he yelled, as Enjolras ran off to class. Jehan blushed and smiled at the irony, since he sort of was.

Courfeyrac slid his arm off from around Jehan, checking his phone again before he put it in his bag, "so this cafe?"

"Oh-I-" he started, shocked and delighted that Courfeyrac, who he had heard so much about and thought about so often, wanted to accompany him. At the same time, he was a little nervous to spend the next hour with him; afraid he might slip up and say something stupid. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow and smiled at him inquisitively, tilting his head.

Jehan's face went bright red, and he brought one hand up to his face as he said quietly, "you really want to go? Like with me? I'd love that..."

"You're adorable," he laughed, "and yeah, I think I might need help with this assignment, I'm not at all into this stuff."

"Oh, I mean I'd love to help you, but I think you'd do much better on your own. I'm a freshman, and you're a senior," he replied, bashfully, feeling his cheeks cool down a little bit as he brought both hands to his long braid, adjusting it.

"How the hell are you in advanced poetry if you're a freshman? God, you must be like a genius. You're helping me, it's decided," he said, laughing as Jehan's bright eyes lit up.

"It has to come from you..." he started, looking down and smiling, feeling his cheeks heat up again.

"Can I write about you? The adorable little freshman and his cute little insecurities; that'll make a good love poem about imperfection, won't it?" he asked, flirtatiously, and Jehan looked up at him, laughing, "Not really, but anyways, let's go."

Jehan couldn't stop smiling, his cheeks retaining a vibrant, rosy glow the whole time, "so, who are you going to write about?" he asked, almost whispering.

"This is why I need your help!" he laughed, "and who are you going to write about?" he asked.

"I have no idea; the first person who popped into my mind is too perfect, so I can't write about them," he giggled, "I'll come up with someone." he shrugged, still smiling.

"Awww that's cute, and who's this perfect person who popped into your mind? Can I meet them?" he asked, nonchalantly taking a flower from Jehan's hair and placing it in his own.

Jehan laughed, unsure of what to say, "We're almost there, do you want me to buy you something?"

"Do I want the guy I just met and invited myself to hang out with to buy me something. Jeez, you really think I'm _that much_ of a douchebag?" he teased. Jehan shook his head.

"No, but I would like to buy you a coffee, or tea, or something," he laughed, softly, looking up at Courfeyrac's smiling face and the way the sun was falling over his dark curls and creamy skin. Courfeyrac put his arm around Jehan again, rolling his eyes as they continued walking.

Jehan spent the entire rest of the walk over there giggling and smiling at the fact that he was at the café with _Courfeyrac_, the boy he'd had a slight crush on the whole time he had been attending the university but had always seemed so far out of reach. He was so loved by absolutely everyone, more than half the people at the school had fallen for him, Jehan included. It was almost dreamlike.

"I suck at this emotional stuff. I can't just write a poem about someone I love despite their imperfections off the top of my head. Enjo was right about that class," he whined, flopping down on a chair at the café and putting his feet up.

"He was _not_," Jehan argued, still smiling, "why not write it about him?" he asked. Courfeyrac laughed.

"You're hilarious. _No_. That's weird," he laughed, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

"But think about it! You two are best friends and you love each other unconditionally despite your many differences, it's perfect. I can't believe we didn't think of it before," he giggled, extremely proud of himself and loving the look of shock and amusement on Courfeyrac's face.

"Yeah, I guess so, but…" he started, and then shook his head, laughing, "no, you know what? That's genius; it'll be awesome," he laughed, ruffling his hair, "now who're you doing yours on?"

"I'll make someone up," he smiled, rolling and unrolling the sleeves of his floral shirt, "or something. Don't worry about it, I love writing," he closed his eyes and sighed, before getting up to go get their drinks.

"I'd love to read some of your stuff sometime, if you'd let me," he said, as Jehan walked over to the counter, smiling.

When he returned, Courfeyrac looked at his phone, "shit," he muttered.

"What is it? Is everything alright?" Jehan asked, and Courfeyrac chuckled slightly at Jehan's concern.

"Nothing, I'm just going to be very late for my next class, that's all, sweetheart," he laughed, standing up and walking over to the door.

Jehan followed him, "Courfeyrac?" he asked softly, "why did you choose to spend your lunch hour with me?"

Courfeyrac grinned and put one arm around Jehan's waist, leaning in very close and whispering, "I think you're _cute_, see you in class tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you actually do the assignment?" Courfeyrac asked, and Enjolras nodded, clearly frustrated about having to complete such a pointless assignment. "Mine's about you."

"And I'm sure you portrayed me exactly as I am in reality," he replied sarcastically, as he took a piece of paper from his backpack and sat down.

"The cute freshman helped me with it," he smiled, "we went to the café and I was totally late to my next class. It was awesome," he recalled, as Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Don't break the innocent freshman's heart, Courf," he said, smiling slightly as he read over the paper.

"Is that your love poem? _Let me read it!"_ he exclaimed, extremely excited and a little shocked that his best friend had actually completed the assignment, instead of leading a formal protest against it.

"No, it's private," he said.

"_Awwwwww_," Courfeyrac smiled, "come on, just let me read it please," he begged. Enjolras shook his head and walked his paper up and put it in the tray as the bell rang, followed by Courfeyrac, and then Jehan, who came in late, holding an extra Starbucks coffee for Courfeyrac. The three of them resumed their seats from the previous day, in the second to last row.

The teacher entered and informed everyone that if the assignment wasn't turned in it would greatly bring down their grade considering it was the start of the semester, and then announced that she was going to select one at random to read to the class. Enjolras froze, watching her select his from the stack. Courfeyrac turned and smirked at him.

"It's called I'll Lead You from the Dark. What a creative title," she said, and Jehan patted Enjolras' shoulder sympathetically.

"It's ok, no one's going to know who wrote it," he consoled.

"Yep, no one except us," Courfeyrac added, and Enjolras wanted so badly to punch him or walk out of the room.

"_Take my hand_

_Intertwine your calloused fingers among mine_

_Close your eyes_

_Feel the heat and the rapid pulsing of my heart_

_Walk alongside me_

_See the things I see the way I see them_

_Imagine our world_

_Hold me as I tell you how and why to care_

_Open your eyes_

_Trust me when I show you my world_

_Squeeze my hand_

_When our I fall alongside my tears for you_

_Please believe when_

_I speak of your beauty and condemn my own_

_Let go after_

_You know that I love you_ _and there's nothing more I can show you"_

The entire class sat for a moment in silence, including the teacher, "wow, _beautiful_. Someone has a wonderful boyfriend," she said, choosing another poem to read as Jehan walked over and hugged Enjolras.

"It was so beautiful, I can't believe you don't love this class, it was so real, Enjolras, I hope it works out between you and whoever it is, and I'm sure it will," he gushed, smiling.

"Yeah, beautiful," Courfeyrac said, "so who's it for? Is he in this class? In our grade?" he laughed.

"I made it up. I'm not hopelessly in love with someone who hates the world, that's ridiculous, you know me better than that," he lied, uneasily leaning back in his chair.

"It's okay we respect your privacy, you don't have to tell us," Jehan added, softly.

"_I don't_," Courfeyrac teased, putting his hand on Enjolras' shoulder, "we're gonna find out. Don't worry," he said, and a tiny smile crept onto Enjolras' severe face for a moment.

"Courf, I would really rather not discuss this with you, I still feel extremely violated that the teacher decided it was fine to read my private thoughts to the entire class," he complained, running a hand through his hair.

"She read it anonymously. No one knows it was you, relax. Come on, Enjy, I _always_ tell you _everything_, at least give me a hint," he pleaded, as the teacher started reading someone else's poem.

"Fine, it's a real person. Based on a real person, but I'm not in love with them or anything," he said.

"No one ever said anything about being in love," Jehan remarked, softly, "but you know, we would love to hear it if you are."

"I'm _not_. See? This is why I don't like this class; poetry seems to overdramatize everything, and it's so unnecessary for me. Can you drive me home?" he asked Courfeyrac, who looked shocked, since Enjolras never ditched class.

"No, not really, I kind of have a class too and no you cannot take my car I've seen you drive. Just suck it up. You're actually kind of talented at this; seriously that was a good poem. Love or no love," he said, and Enjolras smiled at him and relaxed a little.

"Enjolras?" Jehan asked quietly, looking down at his hands, "please tell us. We can help you, or at least tell Courf and I can leave, since I know we don't know each other too well," he said, looking up at Enjolras hopefully with his big blue eyes.

The door swung open and Grantaire walked in, with no school supplied other than his headphones which played so loudly everyone in the room could hear. He assumed his seat at the back of the classroom and swung his feet over the vacant chair in front of him, taking his jacket off and placing it on the back of the chair. He acted as if there were no adult authority figure in the room, and took out a water bottle that was obviously filled with vodka. Enjolras turned to look at him and blushed slightly when the boy smiled at him.

The teacher yelled something at him along the lines of being late, and he barely looked up; Enjolras nudged him, but he just looked up and smiled again.

"You need to go get a pass," Enjolras whispered; Grantaire looked half asleep and his eyelids were falling over his eyes as he sighed and stood up and walked out of the classroom.

Jehan smiled mischievously, "is it him?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"That's _absurd_," Enjolras lied. He was the one Enjolras had thought of as he was writing the poem, not that he really felt _all of those things_. He was the hopeless looking boy that Enjolras had noticed since last year, who always seemed to distraught, in such need of help. They had barely spoken to each other, considering they were three years apart in school and Grantaire never came to class. He definitely wasn't beautiful, with his dark curly hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in days, the look of giving up in his small grey eyes.

"Nothing's absurd when it comes to caring about someone," Jehan mumbled, both to himself and Enjolras. Courfeyrac smiled at him, and he blushed and turned back towards the front.

The class was painstakingly slow; even Jehan, who adored it, felt almost as though he might fall asleep as the teacher dragged on and on. Enjolras had pulled up some article about current events on his iPhone and was reading that intently, and Courfeyrac had fallen completely asleep. Enjolras nudged him.

"It's been almost forty-five minutes," he said, a worried look on his face.

"No, it's been like an hour since class started, let me sleep," Courfeyrac moaned, keeping his head on the desk.

"That's not what I mean. That kid who sits behind us left to get a pass almost forty-five minutes ago," he said. Courfeyrac pulled his head up to look at Enjolras' concerned face, and smiled.

"It's very sweet that you're worried, but he's fine. He ditched, Enjo, just like every other day. It was a really stupid idea of the teacher to actually send him out of class. Relax," he replied, smiling.

Enjolras shook his head, "No, Courf, I don't think so…" he started, looking around the room, "he left his jacket here, I think he was planning on coming back," he motioned towards the chair with Grantaire's jacket hung on the back of the chair. Courfeyrac shrugged.

"If you wanna go make sure he's okay I think that's adorable, but I'm not coming with you, sorry," he said.

"I'm just _concerned_, I would do the exact same for you if you came to class one day in a horrible state and then left for forty-five minutes," he argued, pulling his backpack onto his lap and preparing to get up.

"Good luck," Jehan said, as Enjolras stood up and walked out of the room without giving them a second glance.


	3. Chapter 3

_((please review i love you and dont know if i should continue on with this story so please review...))_

Enjolras attempted to justify his reasons for ditching class in order to make sure the biggest slacker at the school was _okay_, as he walked around campus for the third time. What was he actually doing? Why did he care like this?

He felt his heart leap as he finally spotted the young boy, lying on a bench, possibly sleeping, and cursed himself for feeling so happy at it. They had only spoken a few words to each other, not even pleasant ones at that, and yet, he had begun to cloud Enjolras' perfectly clear thoughts since the moment he first saw him on campus, and increasingly so now that they had a class together. He felt even more resentful towards how accurate Courfeyrac's assumptions were.

He ran his hands through his blonde curls, trying to decide whether to run back to class now, alone, abandon this crazy impulse that he had. He looked down at Grantaire; he was definitely less than average looking, but the way his dark hair sprawled onto his unevenly tan face looked beautiful to Enjolras, especially the way that the sunlight seemed to be dripping onto his nose and eyelids. He sat down cautiously on the only part of the bench Grantaire wasn't covering, looking down at his peaceful, sleeping face next to Enjolras' thigh. He never seemed so peaceful when awake; he always seemed troubled.

"I'm not going back to class," he murmured, rubbing his eyes. Enjolras jumped, horrified that he had been awake.

"W-well, I guess I'll go then," Enjolras stammered, hesitant to look away from the boy's grey eyes as they opened. He didn't want to leave, though.

"Will you stay if I pretend to be asleep again?" he slurred, opening his eyes fully and smiling up at Enjolras.

"That's ridiculous. I was sent to come get you," he lied, slowly standing up off the bench as Grantaire sat up and smiled at him.

"Oh, you know that is just _so plausible, _especially considering how often I attend class, and even more so considering how we're so close that even the teacher would assume you would know exactly where to find me, uh-huh, sure," he laughed, retrieving his vodka-filled water bottle from his small purse.

"You are _infuriating_," Enjolras snapped, glaring at him, and then suddenly turned soft, "but are you okay?"

"Am I okay…" he wondered, "I don't think I'm okay by your standards. But the hottest guy at the school just ditched class to come find me, so in my opinion I'm _great."_

Enjolras sighed, at a complete loss for a response, "You can't just sit on this bench for the rest of the day, especially in this state," he argued.

"And you care because…" Grantaire slurred, closing his eyes again and reaching out to put his hand on Enjolras' hand, who felt petrified and therefore unable to move away.

"You'll thank me later when you're not drunk," he shrugged.

"I'm not drunk. You're just beautiful," he smiled; Enjolras slapped his hand on his forehead, frustrated. Why had he even _considered _coming out to find him? And why the hell go through with it?

"Do you need a ride home?" Enjolras asked, his voice sounding extremely infuriated.

"Apollo is going to drive me home," he sang.

"Is that a yes?" Enjolras demanded, losing patience.

"I don't want to bother you…" Grantaire whispered, squeezing Enjolras' hand before letting it fall.

"It's too late for that," Enjolras groaned.

Grantaire closed his eyes again, smiled and nodded. Enjolras did his best to hold back a smile. He pulled out his phone.

_Courf, I'm borrowing your car, _he texted.

The reply came in less than thirty seconds; _Ooooh u hav to tell me EVERYTHING that happens later _

Enjolras tugged Grantaire's arm and pulled him into a standing position, but he seemed almost ready to fall over. The boy was surprisingly light, possibly light enough to carry all the way out to the parking lot. His skinny arm was slung around Enjolras' shoulder; he clearly felt bad and was trying his best to support his own weight, but couldn't.

"Who normally takes care of you when you get yourself into states like this?" Enjolras asked, as he opened the passenger door of the car and Grantaire slumped into it.

"_When you get yourself into states like this_," he laughed, "babe, it happens every day, and there's this girl Eponine that I live with."

Enjolras almost felt a sting of jealousy as he fastened Grantaire's seatbelt around him, and then hated himself for feeling that, "does she go here? Do you want me to call her so she can come get you?" he asked, bitterly.

He smiled, amused at Enjolras' obvious jealousy, "no, she's twenty-three. She works in this bar. We should go there together sometime," he murmured, as he fell into a light sleep again.

"Okay. Where is your house?" he asked, and looked over when Grantaire didn't answer. He smiled as he looked at his sleeping, peaceful face. Enjolras didn't want to wake him, so he drove them both over to his dorm room. Grantaire woke up slightly as they pulled into the parking lot.

"You're missing class…" he muttered, closing his eyes again but forcing himself to open the car door and stand up, almost toppling over as he did so. Enjolras sighed, not sure exactly how to deal with this, and still wondering how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation. He put his arm underneath Grantaire's shoulder again and walked them both up to his dorm room. Grantaire fell onto the couch the second they opened the door and passed out immediately. He did look beautiful when he was sleeping, Enjolras couldn't help but smile.

He examined the sleeping boy on his couch, and asked himself again why the hell he had done this. Grantaire didn't look ready to wake up for an hour or so, and was most likely planning on blowing off the rest of his classes for the day anyways. Enjolras couldn't just _leave _him here, could he?

He went to go take a shower, deciding he could figure it out later.


End file.
